Foiled
by a bigger wave
Summary: Dean Winchester meets a beautiful man by the name of Castiel Novak in a bar where he satifies his craving for alcohol. Could this budding friendship cure Dean of his addiction? Could this be more than a simple friendship? A story based on the album "Foiled" by Blue October.


**Hello everyone, this is the beginning of a wonderful journey for me (and hopefully for you as well). I've had the thought in my head for a while now, and that thought was to make a story about Castiel and Dean to the album Foiled by Blue October. For whatever reason, my thoughts always run to that sweet angel and his human every time I listen to that album. **

**At the end of each chapter I will be including the lyrics to the song the chapter is named after. **

**Please read, and if you don't know the album maybe listen to the song before/after each chapter. Leave me a comment if you'd like, and I'll see you next chapter. Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>Dean walked along the main road, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as his eyes glanced about for a decent watering hole. He had passed a couple of bar &amp; grill type establishments but the thought of hanging out in a chain restaurant made him cringe. The sun was shining but there was a bit of chill in the air. The cold breeze felt good against the back of his neck, made him feel awake. The early evening might even have been pleasant if it weren't for Sammy intruding in on his thoughts, the lines of his face bent into an angry glare, his cheeks flushed red with frustration.<p>

_You gotta stop doing this, Dean!_

They had talked since that night, smoothed everything over with a couple of "sorry"s and "I didn't mean it"s. Dean had smiled and clapped Sam on the shoulder, wishing him well on his trip to California.

"_Meet a hot babe and don't let her know that your older brother is better looking than you," he'd said as they gave each other a goodbye hug. _

_Sam laughed and nodded, "Sure, jerk."_

"_Bitch."_

The corner of Dean's mouth lifted with the memory, but it quickly faded back into a frown. He knew that the fight wasn't resolved. They had glossed over it in the usual Winchester fashion, shoving down the actual problem just to stop the fight in the present moment. But it would be back. It always came back to bite them in the ass. Also in the Winchester fashion.

Dean took a turn into the next little bar on the road. "General's Pub". It wasn't exactly what he was looking for, a little bit too populated for his taste, but he needed a drink and he needed a drink now. To his immense relief, there weren't too many people seated at the bar and as he claimed a stool of his own, the bartender came immediately for his order. He was in his 30's, clean-shaven with black hair and an earring. Eh, not bad.

"Give me your best beer on tap," Dean grunted, focusing his thoughts back on what he was there for. He watched as the bartender nodded and got to work, pulling the beer tap and letting the liquid pour into into a glass with an efficiency probably achieved by years of practice. Dean gave a small 'thanks' as the glass was placed in front of him.

"I'll start a tab?" the man offered. Dean nodded.

As he took the first gulp, the drink giving him a kind of pleasure it seemed only alcohol could give him these days, he heard the bartender greeting people as they walked through the door.

"Novak! Good to see ya!" He heard a couple of voices tossing greetings back and forth. He could almost hear the Cheers theme song playing in his head.

"Where everybody knows your name," he sung under his breath, his level of annoyance rising. He was going to have to vacate soon, there were too many people for his current state of mind. It seemed that this was a local bar that Dean was intruding on. Though, he supposed he was a local now. The key to his new apartment resting in his pocket said that much.

He was taking another sip when the sound of the stool next to him scraping against the floor alerted him that he was about to have his space invaded. He was almost in the mood to turn to this mystery person and tell them to fuck right the fuck off but when he actually did turn his head…

Well, what to focus on first? There were the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen, of course, looking straight at him, making his face go warm and his body freeze up. Then there was this smile that went from ear to ear, wide and toothy. Throw in the tousled dark brown hair that looked as if it existed only to have hands in it and Dean was rendered speechless.

"Hello," the gorgeous stranger said, voice much deeper than Dean would have expected.

Dean moved his mouth to reply and found no words for what felt like forever before finally choking out a short, "Hi." He wanted to smack himself in the head for how stupid it sounded. "Uh...hey," he added. Sure, why not, make it worse.

Dean didn't understand how it was possible, but the stranger's toothy grin grew even wider as he lifted his hand to call for the bartender. Embarrassed, Dean looked down at his drink, trying his hardest to focus on the condensation on the glass rather than on his idiotic social skill in this moment.

"So, where are you from?" the deep voice asked once the bartender had served him his drink.

_It's just some guy trying to be friendly, Dean, you need to chill the fuck out._

Mentally, he took a deep breath and tried to ground himself. "What makes you think I'm not from here?" he replied, swallowing down his sudden awkwardness and sounding a million times smoother than he had at first.

_Thaaaaat's it._

"I just haven't ever seen you around, that's all."

"And you, what? Know everyone in town?" Now he was starting to sound like a little bit of a snarky asshole, but the reply surprised him.

"Yes, that sounds about right."

Dean arched his eyebrow, skeptical. The stranger laughed as he pulled at the blue tie of the suit that Dean had just realized he was wearing.

"I'm Castiel Novak," he said, reaching towards Dean for the obligatory nice-to-meet-you hand shake. Dean shook his hand, noting the way their skin slid against one another's, but let out a bark of laughter mid-shake. There was no way he was letting that one slide by him.

"_Castiel_?" he inquired, overemphasizing the syllables to make it clear the name was ridiculous to say.

Castiel chuckled, letting go of Dean's hand with a shrug.

"Trust me, I've grown used to that reaction."

"Hippie parents?" Dean inquired with some amusement.

"Try ultra religious, conservative, business types."

Dean looked Castiel up and down.

"Following your old man's foot steps?" he asked, arching a brow at Castiel's suit and tie ensemble.

The dark-haired man sighed, reaching a hand up to loosen the tie around his neck as if it were choking him.

"Not by choice," he said with a grimace. Dean gave a nod and couldn't help but notice just how expressive this man was. Three little words, but so much emotion behind each and every one. Dean didn't know this guy's story, didn't know him at all, but he could sense the cage that he was living in. The worst part of all of it was that he could relate.

"I feel ya," Dean muttered under his breath as flashes of his father's face flitted through his brain. The silence that followed had a real weight to it and Dean was certain the conversation was done.

_Well, there goes that_.

He lifted his glass once more to his lips, taking a generous gulp of the dark brown liquid.

Then, surprising Dean, Castiel coughed, took a final swig of whatever he was drinking, and shook off the heavy silence covering the both of them with a smile.

"So if you're new, I'm guessing you aren't too familiar with the town?"

Dean shook his head, gesturing around the room.

"Not at all, I just randomly walked in here off the street. Just looking around to see, uh, what's up," he said lamely.

"Well, mystery man, I know the place pretty well so if you ever want a little tour," at this, he paused, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and taking a pen from the bar, "please don't hesitate to call me."

Castiel placed the piece of paper next to where Dean's hand lay on the bar and smiled that brilliant smile once again. Then, he threw some cash down for his drink and grabbed a tan trench coat from the chair behind him.

"You're not even going to ask me what my name is?" Dean asked, folding the piece of paper into his hand like it was a precious jewel.

"I figured you'd tell me if you wanted to. What is your name, mystery man?" Castiel's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Dean hesitated, wondering why it was so important to him for this random stranger to know his name. He contemplated for a brief moment simply telling the man a fake name.

"Dean," he confessed.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said, reaching out to shake his hand once more.

And suddenly, as he felt the edge of Castiel's skin, Dean knew exactly why it was so important: the smile on his face was genuine for once.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Sammy how's Californ-I-A?" Dean said into his cellphone. It started ringing as soon as he had opened the door to his apartment, and since he'd ignored Sam's last few calls he figured he should probably answer this time.<p>

He wanted to smile at his little (well, younger, definitely not little) brother's voice but the tone carried something distinctly familiar to Dean and he knew this conversation was going to end badly.

"Uh, warm. Still. It's still like 90 degrees here, can you believe it?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah, that's California for you. You get all settled in?" Dean inquired, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter and shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I still need to go get a few things for school but it looks like I'll be set for when it starts."

Dean plopped himself down on the couch he managed to lug up the stairs two days ago.

"What about you? Settled?" Sammy's voice questioned from all the way out on the west coast.

Dean knew what Sam was really asking, and the anger started bubbling up to the surface once again. He could almost taste the tension forming, just as he had that night they fought two weeks ago.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean grunted.

"Can we not sit here and pretend like everything was okay, _is_ okay?"

Dean could picture Sam's face like it was right in front of him. Eyebrows raised and furrowed, lips pursed, skin flushed with anger and annoyance. Well, Dean could be angry too.

"I said, I'm _fine_," he repeated.

"Oh yeah?" Sam huffed, "When was your last drink, Dean?"

The buzz Dean got from his drinks at General's Pub was wearing off now. He knew it would never last this conversation. He stood, preparing for a battle.

"You wanna back off, Sammy?" he heard the defensiveness in his voice and cursed the way he could be so transparent. But really, he hadn't had much to drink, at least not compared to normal. Not to mention it was only 10 PM, not an unreasonable time to come home.

Sam ignored him completely.

"I'm sure you're just getting back from some seedy bar, that's why I haven't been able to get a hold of you and that's exactly the problem Dean. You have a drinkin-"

"You better not be about to say what I think you are, Sam," Dean interrupted, seething.

"What? That you have a drinking problem?" his younger brother accused. "Should I remind you of how you weren't coming home until 4 in the morning, completely useless to the world? Or about how I was worried you crashed and were lying in a ditch? How about losing your job?"

Dean tried to interrupt but Sam kept going.

"Spending all your money, losing all your friends, pushing Bobby away. What about what you did to Jo, Dean? If you don't stop the path you're on you're going to end up just like-"

"Shut. Up." Dean breathed heavily into the phone which he gripped so tightly in his hand it was surprising that it still held its shape.

Sam faltered, going silent for a moment. They both sat quiet, still.

After a few minutes a softer, gentler voice came from the earpiece of the cell phone.

"What else is it, Dean? What else could it be?"

A click sounded and Sam was gone.

Dean threw the phone across the room. He felt angry, sure, he usually felt angry. What Sam had said pissed him off to a point where he wanted to punch a hole into the wall of his new apartment. But…

That quiet voice, that voice that reminded Dean of the kid Sammy, the one that looked up to his brother and was cared for by that brother, that only made Dean feel guilty. It shoved anger out of the way and painted his insides with despair.

He hadn't let Sam finish but he'd known what he was going to say.

"_You're going to end up just like dad."_

The thought felt like a knife through his belly.

The worst part of all of it was that he had the same suspicion; he was turning into John Winchester. Good ol' dependable John Winchester who'd let his sons live alone for weeks at a time while he went out for booze. The John Winchester who was so angry at the world that he would take it out on his older son. The thought made him want to curl in on himself and retreat into the dark recesses of the booze in his cabinet.

He walked to his kitchen, heading for that particular dark recess. Clearly, getting buzzed wasn't enough. He uncapped the bottle of whisky he'd stowed away in there and stared at it for a long moment. He imagined the sweet burn of the liquid running down his throat, resting in his gut. He imagined the world going a bit fuzzy, softer around the edges. So much more tolerable than reality with its sharp lines and hard surfaces. He prepared to take a gulp but noticed the tiny folded up piece of paper sitting on his counter. He paused, holding the bottle mid-air.

"_Well, mystery man, I know the place pretty well so if you ever want a little tour please don't hesitate to call me_."

Dean remembered the wide grin, the kind eyes. He felt the heavy weight pressing down on his brain lift ever so slightly, and sighed.

He put the bottle down and went to retrieve his phone instead.

* * *

><p><strong>Some kind of light<strong>  
><strong>at the end<strong>  
><strong>When touching<strong>  
><strong>the edge of her skin<strong>

**Once so hard to speak**  
><strong>Now so easy to play around<strong>  
><strong>Catching your eye you know<strong>  
><strong>That eye that slapped you in your face<strong>  
><strong>calls you a puppy<strong>  
><strong>Well how do you say<strong>  
><strong>I was hypnotized<strong>  
><strong>Hypnotized<strong>

**My words, they pour**  
><strong>Like children to the playground<strong>  
><strong>Children to the playground<strong>  
><strong>You make me smile<strong>

**There's some kind of light at the end**  
><strong>Stoned, forgetful, and then<strong>  
><strong>I'm drinking what used to be sin<strong>  
><strong>And touching the edge of her skin<strong>

**And could you be the one that's not afraid**  
><strong>To look me in the eye<strong>  
><strong>I swear I would collapse<strong>  
><strong>If I would tell how I think you fell<strong>  
><strong>From the sky<strong>

**My words, they pour**  
><strong>Like children to the playground<strong>  
><strong>Children to the playground<strong>  
><strong>You make me smile<strong>

**There's some kind of light at the end**  
><strong>Stoned, forgetful, and then<strong>  
><strong>I'm drinking what used to be sin<strong>  
><strong>And touching the edge of her skin<strong>

**There's some kind of light at the end**  
><strong>Stoned, forgetful, and then<strong>  
><strong>I'm drinking what used to be sin<strong>  
><strong>And touching the edge of her skin<strong>

**It's the feeling I get**  
><strong>My palms with sweat<strong>  
><strong>Like some kind of daydream<strong>  
><strong>I'll never forget<strong>  
><strong>I'm stuck in this spin<strong>  
><strong>Why does it begin<strong>  
><strong>By touching the edge of her skin<strong>

**There's some kind of light at the end**  
><strong>Stoned, forgetful, and then<strong>  
><strong>I'm drinking what used to be sin<strong>  
><strong>And touching the edge of her skin<strong>

**There's some kind of light at the end**  
><strong>Stoned, forgetful, and then<strong>  
><strong>I'm drinking what used to be sin<strong>  
><strong>And touching the edge of her skin<strong>


End file.
